


Wildfire

by Drazyrohk



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Big Daddy Energy - Freeform, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Porn With Plot, Rutting, Sex Pollen, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:40:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25793014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drazyrohk/pseuds/Drazyrohk
Summary: The diagnostic scan came back registering some sort of foreign body not only in Cyclonus’ frame, but in the air around him. The same air that Ratchet was unwillingly sharing thanks to his proximity to the other mech.If it was going to start effecting Ratchet the way it had Cyclonus, the medic didn’t have much time to research it. Ratchet knew he was in for a long night.Or week.Or worse.
Relationships: Megatron/Ravage
Comments: 67
Kudos: 130
Collections: It's Quarantime!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes those bunnies be biting and not letting go.

There were a number of mechs aboard the _Lost Light_ that had a presence about them that made one’s EMF ripple disconcertingly, and Ratchet didn’t like it when they came into the med bay in the middle of the night while his back was to the door and his helm was bent over whatever project was keeping him from recharging at a sensible hour. 

“Get out, I’m sure it can wait until morning.” He said to whomever had barged in without the decency to call ahead. 

The presence was undeterred and chose not to depart despite his threatening tone and uninviting field. Ratchet waited a moment before he looked up, intent on impressing upon the intruder he was otherwise occupied. 

The presence happened to be Cyclonus, and Ratchet was a little startled by how close the mech had managed to get to him without making much noise. He turned to face the silent and looming warrior with a frown. 

“What’s your problem?” Ratchet asked, the absolute picture of bedside manner and concern. 

Cyclonus let out a slow ex-vent that smelled heavily of engex and something almost floral that Ratchet’s olfactory sensors didn’t have a name for. Then he breathed in just as slowly as he leaned forward a touch, as if he were testing Ratchet’s scent in return. 

“I am feeling unwell.” Cyclonus informed him. 

Ratchet let out a snort and took a step back. This was odd behaviour, normally Cyclonus wasn’t the type to get this close to someone. Unless he was threatening them of course. 

“My cursory diagnosis is you’re drunk.” He said in response. 

“No.” Cyclonus stated. 

“You smell like booze. So yes, I’d say-” Ratchet continued, interrupted when Cyclonus reached past him to slam a fist onto the workbench.

Oh great. This was just what Ratchet needed tonight.

“No.” Cyclonus snarled. 

“Alright then. You’re not drunk. In that case, what seems to be the problem?” Ratchet asked. It was time to shift into deescalation tactics. Hopefully that would be enough to negate the need to call for help. 

“I need you to scan me. Something is wrong.” Cyclonus said in a tone that Ratchet had never heard him use before. It was quiet, dangerous, and some other adjectives Ratchet didn’t feel like using to describe it.

As he let his plates lift to allow rather heated air to escape from his vents, Cyclonus wafted more of that floral scent into the area immediately surrounding himself and Ratchet.

It wasn’t much of a stretch to oblige Cyclonus in his demand. Ratchet probably would have done it anyway if the situation had started differently. 

Immediately the diagnostic scan came back registering some sort of foreign body not only in Cyclonus’ frame, but in the air around him. The same air that Ratchet was unwillingly sharing thanks to his proximity to the other mech. 

“Yes, something is definitely wrong.” Ratchet muttered as he looked the report over. “Now we just need to figure out what the hell it is.” 

“Do so with haste.” Cyclonus rumbled. His optics were fixed on Ratchet’s throat with a peculiar intensity that reminded Ratchet of something he’d seen before a very long time ago. 

“You’re going to need to let me use my instruments.” Ratchet said, and he heard Cyclonus’ vents hitch in response. 

It took a few incredibly long seconds for Cyclonus to straighten and give him a bit of breathing room. Ratchet almost let himself relax, but something told him not to let his guard down for a second, and he didn’t think it had as much to do with the sharp teeth Cyclonus bared as he once again ex-vented through his open mouth than it should have. 

Despite the late hour, it was time to notify the Captains. They would certainly want to know about something like this happening to someone like Cyclonus, especially if the tests Ratchet was currently running pointed to it being contagious. 

Both of them responded almost immediately, and Ratchet did not find their words very promising. 

Megatron replied with a simple ‘That explains a few things.’ Rodimus just said ‘I was about to call you about something like that.’ 

So, it was already spreading. Fantastic. Ratchet turned cautiously to face Cyclonus again, and the mech hadn’t moved. There was no change in his stature or expression, though he was venting a little more heavily than before. 

“Looks like this isn’t an isolated incident. Are you able to answer a couple questions?” Ratchet asked. 

Cyclonus nodded slowly, his cooling fans now whirring and his optics burning just a little more brightly. 

“You were obviously drinking tonight. At Swerve’s?” Ratchet asked. When Cyclonus nodded again, he pressed on. “What did you have?” 

“Something Tailgate ordered for me.” Cyclonus murmured. 

“Was it your usual? Do you have a usual?” Ratchet asked with a twitch of one brow. 

“If I am ordering for myself, I get the same thing. If I indulge him in his insistence, Tailgate will order whatever sounds ‘fun,’ or whatever Swerve suggests we try.” Cyclonus was at least still remarkably coherent despite his seemingly deteriorating condition. 

“And that would probably be the special of the day, I’m assuming.” Ratchet did another scan. Cyclonus was running hotter by the second, but not in a fever sort of sense. 

Any medical professional worth their salt would look at this scan and think ‘heat cycle,’ but whatever that foreign body was made Ratchet think Fuzors, not equinoids.

“Ratchet.” Cyclonus was now speaking in a tone that Ratchet couldn’t label as anything other than predatory, and his frame was starting to react in predictable ways as a result. “I need you to sedate me.” 

“Yeah, that might not be a bad idea.” Ratchet grunted. If it came down to Cyclonus coming at him with whatever intent he may have had in the moment, Ratchet wasn’t sure which one of the four ‘F’s’ he would react with. 

He reached to the side without looking away from Cyclonus and fumbled a drawer on his workbench open. 

“Hurry.” Cyclonus insisted, and he took a single step forward. 

As Ratchet pulled a syringe from the drawer and raised it to pull the cap off, Cyclonus edged closer.

“You might want to-” Ratchet began, but his mumbled instructions were lost in the steady growl of Cyclonus’ powerful engine. 

Cyclonus pushed Ratchet against the workbench, leaned in until their mouths almost touched. His thigh slotted itself between Ratchet’s legs and rubbed rather deliberately against his panels. His servo closed over Ratchet’s wrist and he guided the syringe to his own neck. 

Cursing the subtle tremor in his fingers, Ratchet deployed the sedative and put his other servo on Cyclonus’ chest. He pushed firmly enough to make his point, and while Cyclonus growled in obvious frustration, he let Ratchet shove him into a nearby chair. 

They stared at each other in silence while they waited for the sedative to take hold, and Ratchet hoped beyond all hope that it would actually take hold because he didn’t want to think about what was going to happen if it didn’t. Then Cyclonus let out another sigh and sagged slightly in his seat. 

“Thank you,” He muttered, then frowned. “I apologize.” 

“You don’t need to do that. We’re both fine.” Ratchet said in response. 

Cyclonus nodded, his optics steadily dimming. “Fix this.” He demanded just before he went under. 

Ratchet didn’t need to be told twice. He did, however, need to start working fast to do that. They were in a small space and whatever that foreign body was, it was everywhere at this point. If it was going to start effecting Ratchet the way it had Cyclonus, the medic didn’t have much time to research it. 

The first order of business was locking the door so that no one else could get in. The second was sending an all hands on deck alert to anyone who might be able to assist with solving this mystery. 

When Brainstorm pinged him back that Perceptor wasn’t in the position to assist, Ratchet knew he was in for a very long night. 

Or week. Or worse. 

…

“A lockdown?” Rodimus’ tone was, of course, both indignant and skeptical. “Is that really necessary?” 

“Yes, I think it is.” Megatron replied without taking his optics off the mech that had him quite literally cornered in his hab. 

“That seems like a bit of an overreaction.” Rodimus muttered, and Megatron heard Skids say something in the background he couldn’t quite make out. “You’re doing great. I doubt anyone could get out of that.” 

Skids said something about Getaway, and Megatron ex-vented in annoyance. 

“Could you please focus?” Megatron was asking a lot of his co-captain, he knew that from experience. Whatever those two were up to, he really didn’t want to know. 

“I _am_ focused on what I was doing before you decided to call me.” Rodimus grumbled. 

“I believe that’s secondary to the bigger picture here, Rodimus. This is quickly turning into a crisis.” Megatron said. 

“I wouldn’t say it’s a crisis.” Rodimus argued. 

“Ratchet is being held hostage in the medical bay by Cyclonus, and you don’t think that’s the beginnings of a crisis?” Megatron snapped. 

“He’s not being held hostage. Ratchet shot Overlord in the face when he tried to get into the med bay, nothing can hold him hostage.” Rodimus scoffed. 

“What?!” A third voice snarled loudly on Rodimus’ end of the call. A very familiar voice. One that would have made Megatron freeze in place if he wasn’t already frozen. “Ratchet is what now?!” 

“Listen, I gotta go. No lockdown, we don’t need to do that. We’ve got this handled.” Rodimus said hurriedly, then the connection was cut. 

This entire situation was getting worse with each passing second. Megatron lowered his communicator slowly and another ex-vent escaped him. 

He was on his own right now. He couldn’t trust Rodimus to help sort out this mess while he was obviously busy. And if that voice was any indication, the hapless former Matrix bearer was about to have his servos very full. 

“It seems you’re not the only beast rampaging about the ship tonight.” He informed the mech who held him captive in his own dwelling. 

“I’m hardly rampaging.” The mild reply was accompanied by the barest twitch of a long tail and the slight narrowing of ruby optics. “Though I have to say I’m flattered you’d compare me to him.” 

“You know where you stand, Ravage.” Megatron informed him. 

“Right now, between you and the door.” Ravage replied. The steady, rumbling growl that issued forth from him hadn’t stopped, and coupled with cooling fans and deep, even venting, the room positively thrummed with sound. 

“I am acutely aware of that.” Megatron murmured. It wasn’t fear that held him, it was caution and respect. “I am still waiting for you to make your intentions clear.” 

The only response to that was the scrape and thump of Ravage’s tail against the floor. The felinoid was otherwise rooted to the spot, gaze fixed on Megatron and field filling the space between them. A strange perfume emanated from him as well, not entirely unpleasant. 

As his glossa restlessly flicked across his lips before they pulled back to reveal glinting fangs, Ravage let out a shuddering sigh. “I’m still processing them.” He said simply. 

“You may wish to do so a little more quickly. I may be needed elsewhere.” Megatron informed him. 

“You’re not going anywhere.” Ravage snapped in response, and he rose to his pedes with fluid grace, plates rising like hackles along his spinal strut. “Not until I’m finished with you.” 

“Finished doing what exactly?” Megatron asked, helm tilted slightly to one side. 

Ravage wasn’t the type to sputter or stammer. When the answers didn’t come easily to him, he took the time to choose his words. As a result, he said nothing, he simply remained standing and stared intensely at Megatron. 

“Either you don’t know, or you won’t say. Which is it?” Megatron demanded, his tone one of authority and command. 

Ravage hissed at him, optics flashing and claws digging furrows in the floor. “Stop talking. You’re not making this any easier.” He snapped. 

Megatron stared the felinoid down as he opened an internal communication to Ratchet. _Please tell me you have more information._ He said in way of greeting when the comm was accepted. 

_It’s some sort of fungus._ Ratchet replied. _It has a smell to it, something sorta flowery. I’ve got Cyclonus sedated and I’m trying to figure out if there’s a counter to it._

_What were his symptoms before you put him out?_ Megatron asked as he scowled down at Ravage. 

_It’s like he’s in heat. But not in the ‘I’m going to lay back and let you have your way with me’ kind of heat that used to happen before the war. The ‘I’m going to hold you down and have my way with you’ kind of heat that showed up once our population began dwindling._ Ratchet explained in a distracted way. 

_Thank you for clarifying. I proposed a lockdown but Rodimus doesn’t think it’s a necessity._ Megatron said. 

Ravage had begun pacing, but he didn’t take his optics off of Megatron. The growl had risen in volume and severity. 

_Rodimus is an idiot. A lockdown would help to keep things somewhat contained until we figure this out. I dunno if it’s contagious yet, but if it is? I’m fragged. _Ratchet said helpfully before issuing a curt farewell and cutting comms.__

__“Well then.” Megatron murmured, mostly to himself. “That was enlightening.”_ _

__Ravage paused in his pacing briefly, then stalked a bit closer before resuming._ _

__Megatron had witnessed his Decepticons going through heat cycles during the long war many times. He’d seen them stalk other mechs like prey this way, hell, he’d done the stalking himself on occasion._ _

__However, he’d never found himself playing the role of prey. That wasn’t how Decepticon dynamics worked. On this ship, he was still a captain, still in command, but the dynamics were different enough that Ravage, of all people, felt confident stalking him._ _

__There was no way either one of them would be satisfied if he were to just give in._ _

__“I’m going to call security now. I’m going to institute a lockdown.” Megatron said. “That ought to clear the halls a bit. Give us more room.”_ _

__“Room for what?” Ravage’s refined voice was feral and raw now, his tone was hungry._ _

__“I know what you want from me. But make no mistake, I’m not about to make it easy.” Megatron couldn’t help but smirk rather smugly at his companion._ _

__Ravage stared at him for a moment in shock, then realization crossed his features and he let out another low hiss._ _

__“You had better not.” He rasped with a pleased tone._ _

__

__…_ _

__

__There was a great degree of mood whiplash happening tonight in Rodimus’ habsuite. What had started as an evening of tipsy card games with Skids had been rudely interrupted by the door being practically kicked in by a frantic looking Drift._ _

__Before Rodimus could protest or invite Drift to join in, the mech had started making the kind of demands that could very easily be taken the wrong way._ _

__“You need to restrain me.” Drift blurted out before even offering a greeting or an apology for breaking the door._ _

__“I beg your pardon?” Rodimus asked in confusion, optics wide._ _

__“Restrain me! Tie me up or something!” Drift cried, and he seized Rodimus by the shoulders._ _

__Rodimus squeaked, and he didn’t think his optics could get any wider. He blinked at Drift, then looked at Skids, who appeared just as gobsmacked as he felt._ _

__“Uh…” Rodimus murmured as he turned his attention back to Drift. “This is all very sudden.”_ _

__“I know, but it’s urgent.” Drift shook him briefly._ _

__“I’m not gonna say I haven’t thought about you like that but this is going a lot differently than-“ Rodimus blushed as he spoke._ _

__“Rodimus! Now isn’t the time for jokes! I’m serious!” Drift’s voice didn’t get higher when he was distraught, it just got growly. “You need to tie me up right now!”_ _

__“You assume I know how to do that!” Rodimus protested._ _

__“Of course I do!” Drift snarled._ _

__“Well I don’t!” Rodimus cried._ _

__“I do.” Skids said cheerfully. “Getaway made me help him practice. I can do it. I just need some chains or something.”_ _

__Drift looked at Rodimus expectantly, which prompted him to make an indignant sound._ _

__“What kind of a mech do you take me for?” Rodimus asked, aghast._ _

__“One with a reputation!” Drift replied._ _

__“What kind of a reputation would make you think I’ve got chains or something just laying around?!” Rodimus asked._ _

__“That’s not important right now!” Drift shook him furiously. “Listen, there’s something coming and if you don’t restrain me, bad things are going to happen!”_ _

__“I’ve got you covered.” Skids said in a calm tone. “These aren’t chains but they are cables, and that counts as something, right?”_ _

__Rodimus looked over to see that Skids had pulled a panel off the wall and was removing cables from behind it._ _

__“Hey!” He protested._ _

__“Those will work.” Drift pushed Rodimus away and headed over to Skids._ _

__“Hey!” Rodimus whined._ _

__It was then that Ratchet commed to inform him about Cyclonus, and the comfortable buzz Rodimus had been curating dissolved._ _

__“Oh hey, let me help.” Rodimus said as he hurried over. “Just tell me what to do.”_ _

__“Toss this over that pipe there. No, the other one, that won’t hold his weight.” Skids instructed._ _

__“My frame is too heavy, toss it over both.” Drift said. He turned to Rodimus and held out his wrists. “Please hurry.”_ _

__“We can’t rush this sort of thing. If you do it wrong it’s a waste of time, cause then whoever you tie up could just get free.” Skids explained._ _

__“We don’t want that.” Drift said impatiently._ _

__“I’d feel better if I knew what was happening.” Rodimus said._ _

__His communicator began buzzing and Rodimus excused himself to grab it. He couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t kind of relieved for the distraction. There was something distinctly uncomfortable about tying his best friend up like this._ _

__“What kind of hour do you call this?” Rodimus asked in way of a greeting._ _

__“Hello to you too, Rodimus.” Megatron replied dryly._ _

__“I’m a little busy right now, can this wait?” Rodimus glanced at Skids and Drift, and saw they were making short work of the cables._ _

__“There’s a situation evolving. Have you heard from Ratchet?” Megatron asked in a tense, no nonsense tone._ _

__“Yeah. It’s nothing he can’t handle though.” Rodimus said in response._ _

__“I disagree. We should implement a lockdown.” Megatron said._ _

__“A lockdown?” Rodimus asked indignantly. “Is that really necessary?”_ _

__“Yes, I think it is.” Megatron replied._ _

__“That seems like a bit of an overreaction.” Rodimus muttered._ _

__“How’s that feel? Too tight?” Skids asked Drift from across the room._ _

__Rodimus glanced over and saw that Drift was good and trussed. Skids had made impressively quick and thorough work of this._ _

__“You’re doing great. I doubt anyone could get out of that.” He told Skids with confidence._ _

__“Getaway probably could.” Skids said as he circled Drift to make sure he hadn’t missed anything._ _

__“Could you please focus?” Megatron asked in a very long suffering tone._ _

__“I _am_ focused on what I was doing before you decided to call me.” Rodimus complained. _ _

__“I believe that’s secondary to the bigger picture here, Rodimus. This is quickly turning into a crisis.” Megatron said, and Rodimus rolled his optics at that._ _

__“I wouldn’t call it a crisis.” He argued._ _

__“Ratchet is being held hostage in the medical bay, and you don’t think that’s the beginnings of a crisis?” Megatron snapped._ _

__If Rodimus rolled his optics any harder, they’d fall out of his head. He didn’t have time for Captain Decepticon’s tantrums tonight._ _

__“He’s not being held hostage. Ratchet shot Overlord in the face when he tried to get into the med bay, nothing can hold him hostage.” Rodimus scoffed._ _

__“What?!” Drift suddenly snarled, rather loudly at that. He turned to look at Rodimus with a savage expression, fangs fully bared and optics wild. “Ratchet is what now?!”_ _

__“Listen, I gotta go. No lockdown, we don’t need to do that. We’ve got this handled.” Rodimus said hurriedly, then he hung up on Megatron and moved closer to Skids. “We have this handled, right?” He asked the other mech._ _

__Skids shrugged and made a sound of uncertainty. “Even if my processor didn’t remember the knots exactly, my servos did. I’m pretty sure it’s handled.” He said._ _

__“What did you say about Ratchet?!” Drift demanded, and he twisted against the cables that suspended him._ _

__“Cyclonus paid him a visit in the med bay. I think he mighta gotten himself into the same situation you did, but Ratchet’s fine. He’s tough.” Rodimus reassured him._ _

__“He’s _fine?_ Cyclonus went after him and he’s just fine?!” Drift spat, heated air hissing from his vents as he flared his plates aggressively. “That is _not_ fine!” _ _

__“I don’t think Cyclonus had any nefarious plans. He wasn’t feeling well so he took it upon himself to-” Rodimus held his servos up as he explained, but it didn’t have a placating effect on Drift in the slightest._ _

__“Oh his plans were plenty nefarious. He has designs on Ratchet, I should have known! I won’t let him have Ratchet, Ratchet is mine!” Drift growled ferociously, and while the pipes and cables creaked, it didn’t look like they would give way to his struggling._ _

__As they stood and observed the furious muttering and constant twisting and writhing of Drift’s frame, Rodimus and Skids exchanged a glance._ _

__“You’re pretty good at this.” Rodimus told Skids quietly._ _

__“Like I said. Practice.” Skids murmured in return. “What should we do?”_ _

__“What _can_ we do?” Rodimus asked. _ _

__Then the alarms started, and there was the distinctive sound of the broken door attempting to lock and failing thanks to the manner in which Drift let himself in earlier._ _

__“Oh come on, seriously?! I said no lockdown!” Rodimus shouted._ _


	2. Chapter 2

Of course, the trouble hadn’t started in the med bay. It had been brewing ever since Swerve had started mixing drinks earlier that evening. While he was in the storage room doing inventory, Swerve had found a small bottle hidden at the back of a shelf filled with mixers. 

He didn’t know what it was, had no memory of purchasing it, but it smelled really nice and tasted sweet. It also turned the drinks a really lovely reddish pink colour that reminded him of the hibiscus flowers humans were always wearing, eating or drinking on his sitcoms, so he made that night’s special Hibiscus Punch. 

Nothing seemed amiss while the bar was still open, it was just business as usual. In fact, Swerve didn’t notice anything was wrong until the alarms started going off and lockdown was announced. And even then, he didn’t think it had anything at all to do with him. 

That was of course until Ratchet sent him a rather accusatory comm demanding to know what he’d done. The medic was reportedly working to unravel the origins and effects of Swerve’s culinary adventures while keeping an optic on an unconscious Cyclonus, who was now trapped in the med bay with him thanks to the lockdown. 

Swerve didn’t like being blamed for things. Especially things that directly affected mechs like Cyclonus. His self conscious guilty conscience prompted him to immediately call Tailgate to apologize despite a voice inside him insisting he’d done nothing wrong. 

Tailgate was confused but not upset with the call despite the late hour, and it made Swerve feel a little better. 

“I feel fine.” Tailgate said in mild bewilderment. 

“That’s a relief. Ratchet’s pretty ticked off, but it’s not my fault Cyclonus went to the med bay!” Swerve bleated. 

“Why would he be mad at you for that?” Tailgate asked. “It’s not like you forced Cyclonus to drink too much tonight or something.” 

“That flavouring I used in the drinks tonight seems to have had a weird effect on him, or so Ratchet says.” Swerve admitted nervously. 

“Oh no. I hope he’s gonna be okay! I should have gone with him and now I can’t get to him cause the doors are all locked!” Tailgate fussed, and it was almost possible to hear the sparks that were no doubt springing from the corners of his visor. “Ah Swerve, what should I do?”

“I wouldn’t suggest calling Ratchet, he’s trying to work on stuff. Uh, maybe ask whoever’s working security really nicely for a hall pass?” Swerve suggested. 

“I’m gonna try that. I can’t stand the thought of Cyclonus being sick and all alone with Ratchet.” Tailgate said, perhaps a bit more concerned about the wrong person in this case. “Thanks for calling, Swerve!”

“Okay, be careful!” Swerve called out before he heard the click of the call ending. “Oh jeez…”

He sat back and rubbed the back of his neck as he regarded the darkened screen of his communicator. 

“I guess there’s nothing to do now but wait.” He muttered to himself. 

He didn’t have to wait long, it turned out. No more than ten minutes later, someone knocked on his door. Loudly. 

“Yo!” Whirl’s voice shouted from outside. “Pint size! Lemme in!”

“Uh, I can’t right now. It’s a lockdown.” Swerve called back. He paused and frowned after a second. “Hang on, how come you’re not in your room?” 

“No lockdown is gonna stop me. C’mon, I’m on a mission here and I need you.” Whirl sounded cheerful. Or manic maybe. 

“I’m flattered but I don’t think it’ll happen, the door’s not opening until lockdown is over.” Swerve said. 

“Frag that. Stand back, I’ll get you out.” Whirl announced, and Swerve backed rapidly away from the door in mild panic. 

“Don’t do anything-!” Swerve began, but the warning came too late and sure enough, Whirl blew a hole through the locking mechanism and wrenched the door open. 

“Let’s go!” Whirl crowed. “We got a few more stops to make, time’s a wastin’!” 

“Okay then.” Swerve murmured, somewhat enchanted, definitely intrigued and absolutely not about to miss whatever was happening next for the world. 

…

“Wait, back up, explain it to me again.” Velocity had to speak over both Ratchet and Brainstorm to be heard. 

The lockdown definitely wasn’t conducive to every available engineer, scientist and medic on the ship working together. They were all separated, most of them had no equipment to work with and there weren’t any samples of the supposed foreign body Ratchet had reported. 

“For the third time, it’s some sort of fungus!” Ratchet said shortly. 

“It smells like a really expensive salon solvent.” Brainstorm said immediately afterward. 

“And as far as we know, it’s not contagious.” Velocity mused. “I don’t suppose you’ve seen it, Ratchet?”

“Only under a microscope. I’m considering taking an energon sample from Cyclonus but I don’t want to do it without permission and I’m not about to wake him up again to ask.” Ratchet grumbled. 

“I do not blame you.” Brainstorm said with a nervous laugh. 

“Hm, a fungus that smells like perfume and has made at least two mechs act wildly out of character…” Velocity murmured. 

“We assume it was administered orally, through some sort of cocktail at Swerve’s bar.” Ratchet said. 

“I can confirm, Percy was there tonight, catching up with Blaster.” Brainstorm’s voice was muffled, and there was a great deal of clanking and rustling on his end of the call. 

“Brainstorm, couldn’t you-” Velocity began. 

“I’m not opening this door. I’m in fact about to weld it shut because I can hear Perceptor mucking about with the hinges now that his attempts to override the lockdown procedures has failed.” Brainstorm interrupted. 

“But he might be willing to give you samples.” Velocity insisted. 

“Oh he’s in a giving mood alright. And as much as I would normally be very interested, right now it’s very unwise to take him up on his generosity.” Brainstorm said. The sound of a welding torch began and Velocity sighed. 

“What’s on your mind, Lotty?” First Aid asked. 

“It sounds almost familiar to me but I can’t figure out why.” Velocity said in reply. “I’ve only got books here in my hab but I might be able to find something in them that’ll jog my memory.”

“Every little bit helps.” First Aid said optimistically. “I could make my way to the bay, I wound up getting locked out of my room.” 

“No, go to security.” Ratchet suggested. “I’d like to know how far this has spread.” 

“Okay, can do.” First Aid said. “I’ll give you a heads up once I’m there.”

As he turned the corner, he almost ran into Megatron. Backpedaling with a squeak, First Aid held up his servos. 

“Whoa! Captain! Hello!” He said. 

“What are you doing out here?” Megatron asked, and he glanced over his shoulder almost nervously. “There’s a lockdown in progress.”

“Yes, it happened very suddenly and I wasn’t able to get inside.” First Aid explained. He found himself doing a scan of the normally much larger mech, and sure enough there were trace amounts of a foreign body on Megatron’s frame. 

“I’m fine.” Megatron assured him. “But you should get somewhere safe.” 

“Ratchet asked me to head to security. That seems like a good, safe place to be.” First Aid explained. 

“I agree. Be quick about it.” Megatron said, then he moved past First Aid and rushed down the hall. 

First Aid turned to watch him with a confused blink, then shrugged and continued on his way. Whatever was going on, Megatron could handle it. Other than being several meters shorter than usual, he didn’t seem to be out of sorts or out of character, and the contamination seemed to be contained to the surface of his frame only. No medical emergency, so First Aid didn’t feel the need to follow him. 

The door to the security room opened as First Aid approached, but whoever was on duty had no doubt seen him approaching on the cameras so he wasn’t surprised by that. 

What was surprising, shocking even, was Blaster’s greeting as First Aid hurried in. As the door locked behind him, First Aid was left standing just inside the room, staring at Blaster where he lounged in the swiveling chair at the control console. 

With a very charming smile, and an obvious sweep of his optics up and down First Aid’s frame, Blaster beckoned to him with one servo. 

“Hey mama. So glad you could make it.” Blaster purred, then he patted his knee in invitation. 

First Aid lifted one hand in a shy wave and activated his internal comm. 

_Hey Ratchet? I’m gonna say it’s probably worse than we initially expected._ He informed his superior. 

…

This game would have been a lot more fun if there were less people in the way. The hunt was exhilarating, and Ravage was making his presence known just enough to keep the suspense high, his attention deflectors making him impossible to see but his growling easy to hear as he chased Megatron through the ship.

Megatron waited around the corner until he heard First Aid leave, but as soon as he continued down the hall, he nearly ran into Whirl. 

“Does no one on this ship comprehend lockdown procedures?” He snapped as he stepped back so he wasn’t face to chest with the volatile rotary. “Why are you out?”

“Nothing in the world can hold me if I don’t want to be held.” Whirl said confidently in return. “Why are _you_ out, Megs? And why are you so short?” 

Glossing over the gross irreverence of the nickname, Megatron shook his helm. “I am securing the halls. It’s not safe out here, go home.” He demanded. 

“No can do. I’m on a mission. Me and Swerve have places to be and people to see.” Whirl said with a rather jolly wave. “Is Rung in?” 

“How am I supposed to know?” Megatron glanced around, and they had indeed stopped in the hall near Rung’s quarters. 

“Nevermind, I’ll check.” Whirl stepped up to the door and banged on it obnoxiously. “Yo! Eyebrows! You in there?” 

“He has his room soundproofed, and even if he’s in there, he’s not going to be able to entertain your intrusion.” Megatron said in annoyance. “There is a lockdown in progress. Please go home.” 

“Not yet, I’ve got a few more stops to make. Hey, you can override the door lock, right? Being captain and all?” Whirl turned to look at him and there was a curious intensity to the rotary’s singular optic. Combined with the subtle, lingering scent of engex and that now familiar perfume, Megatron had to guess Whirl was in the same state as Ravage. 

“I can, but I’m not about to. Not for you.” Megatron said bluntly. 

“But this is a matter of life and death. We need Rung.” Whirl argued, and he gestured to himself and to Swerve, who was indeed tagging along on the rotary’s heels. “It’s a medical emergency.” 

“It is not. You’re both fine.” Megatron said with a scowl. 

“Actually…” Swerve murmured shyly. “I’m not sure he is. He’s acting a little uh… manic?” 

“Yeah. I’m totally manic. That’s a bad thing. That’s a thing Rung needs to see to right away.” Whirl leaned in and loomed over Megatron, his optic narrowed. 

“There is no way I’m going to open that door for you.” Megatron was undeterred. Whirl wasn’t menacing to him, not even while he was diminishing himself. 

Before Whirl could retort, the door opened on its own. Captains weren’t the only ones with override codes, and Rung obviously saw the situation as one requiring his interference. 

“At least someone on this ship has some sense about them!” Whirl said in a smug, triumphant tone as he turned to look at Rung. “Eyebrows, come with me if you want to live.”

“If I want to what?” Rung asked in bewilderment. 

“Do not leave this room.” Megatron demanded. “This is a-” 

“A lockdown, yeah, we get it. You’re nothing but a broken record, Megs.” Whirl rolled his optic as he spoke, and reached out to grab Rung’s arm and tug him out into the hall. 

As he opened his mouth to retort, Megatron was blindsided by something unseen and driven through Rung’s open door. He shouted in alarm as he fell to the floor, and when he looked up, he saw Ravage standing between him and the door once again. 

The felinoid had his back to Megatron, his plates flared to make him look larger and his teeth bared in a snarl. He lifted his tail and jabbed the door controls. 

As the door slid shut again, Megatron watched the shocked expressions on the faces of those out in the hall from where he sprawled on the floor until they were blocked from view. 

“What are you doing?” Megatron asked once the door had sealed. 

“You said it yourself. It’s soundproofed.” Ravage growled as he turned to face Megatron.

“Did you tire of the hunt already?” Megatron got to his feet slowly, his entire frame prepared to resume its flight. 

“No. I just don’t think I can wait any longer.” Ravage replied in a heated tone.

…

“Did you seriously just weld this door shut?” The indignation in Perceptor’s voice was so thick, Brainstorm could practically taste it. “Brainstorm. Why are you rejecting me?” 

“You’re not yourself right now and I’m not the sort of scumbag that would take advantage of a treasured colleague when they weren’t themselves.” Brainstorm said without looking up from his microscope. 

He’d gotten a sample, but he wasn’t about to tell the others how. They didn’t need to know that Perceptor had shoved him against the closet door and licked his neck, no sir. It was honestly more for Percy being able to save face than anything. 

There was a brief moment of silence on the other side of the door, then Perceptor sighed very slowly. 

“Knowing that just makes me want you more.” The indignation had been replaced with more of the impossibly seductive tone Perceptor had been wielding against him since his return from the bar earlier that evening. 

Brainstorm was having a very difficult time not taking that personally. 

“You continue to flatter me. But, when it comes down to it, flattery don’t charge these batteries as they say.” Brainstorm informed Perceptor. He had isolated the fungus in the oral lubricant sample he’d swabbed off his own neck, and it was acting differently than the airborne sample he’d looked at earlier. 

“I don’t believe that. I can _smell_ you. Let me in. We both know this was bound to happen sooner or later. Why not sooner?” Perceptor said, and it was just so unfair. 

“I’d rather wait till later. When we’re both of sound mind and at our full genius.” Brainstorm told the thirsty mech behind the welded door. 

“Brainstorm.” Perceptor didn’t whine. He demanded. 

“You know what might make me change my mind?” Brainstorm asked as he straightened to look for some other fluid he could transfer a spore into to see how it would react. “If you helped me figure out what you were drinking at Swerve’s earlier.”

“That would make you cease this foolish game of hard to get?” Perceptor asked without a lick of hesitation. 

“Yes, it would.” If he could get Perceptor’s help without having to be in the same room as him, Brainstorm truly was a genius. Percy was sharp, he’d definitely speed up the process of solving this. 

And sure enough, Perceptor abandoned his efforts to break into the closet and Brainstorm could hear him moving around the lab outside. Perfect. Now it would be easier to focus. 

There wasn’t a lot to work with. A small bottle of mild solvent to be used on microscope lenses, an unopened cube of mid-grade, and some oil they used to keep machine hinges from squeaking. 

It was better than nothing. Brainstorm had an ample supply of slides, and hopefully enough time to do what needed to be done. 

“Anyone still on the line?” He asked hopefully. 

“I’m still here.” Velocity replied immediately. “That was very clever of you, you know.” 

“Yes, yes it was. Thank you for acknowledging that.” Brainstorm was glad no one could see the little flutter of delight his wings gave. “I’m doing some experiments. The spores act really weird when you get them wet.” 

“Spores tend to do that.” Ratchet’s distracted voice said. 

“Specifically, if you get them wet by putting them in your mouth. Or having them come in contact with oral lubricant.” Brainstorm elaborated. 

“Please tell me you didn’t lick something to figure that out.” Ratchet sounded both disgusted and long-suffering as he spoke. 

“Of course not. I used a swab, I’m a consummate professional.” Brainstorm said in response to that. 

“Of dubious morality.” Ratchet said. 

“I don’t appreciate you questioning my morality at a time like this, Ratchet. I’m sending you both some files.” Brainstorm said with a frown. “See what you make of what meager tests I’ve been able to perform.” 

It didn’t take long for the files to transfer through the dedicated and heavily encoded network the science and medical teams used, and Velocity let out an audible gasp when she presumably received and opened them. 

“Oh _no,_ no wonder it sounded familiar!” She declared. 

“You know what it is?” Ratchet and Brainstorm asked in unison. 

“I do, and you’re definitely not supposed to _eat_ it!” Velocity said in alarm.


	3. Chapter 3

“Please, please tell me you’ve made some kind of progress.” Rodimus begged Ratchet. 

He had retreated across the room in an attempt to escape both Drift’s furious muttering and the now overwhelming floral scent that wafted from the restrained mech’s vents as they heaved more and more with every effort he made to escape. 

“I can’t stay on the line long. I have to keep in touch with the people helping me make some semblance of progress. Velocity is going to brief us on what this thing might be.” Ratchet said shortly. 

“That’s great, I’m more interested right now in what it’s doing though, Ratch.” Rodimus said in a hushed voice. 

Luckily, Drift was too busy performing contortion grade maneuvers to hear him. Rodimus couldn’t help crossing his fingers. 

“Doing to who?” Ratchet asked. 

“Well… to Drift.” Rodimus said with a cringe. 

“Ah frag.” Ratchet muttered. 

“Tell me about it. He busted in here earlier and asked us to restrain him rather frantically.” Rodimus explained. 

“Excuse me? Who’s we?” Ratchet asked with equal parts suspicion and fury. 

“Me and Skids. Anyway, Drift is tied up in my hab and trying very very hard to get loose so he can, I dunno, eat Cyclonus or something. I’ve never seen him like this.” Rodimus said. 

“I was wrong. This isn’t a heat cycle, it’s a rut. Whatever you do, don’t let him down. You likely won’t enjoy what will happen if you do.” Ratchet must have put his servo over his face, his voice was muffled. 

“I definitely wasn’t planning on it. He’d be your problem though, according to all the things coming out of his mouth right now.” Rodimus said. 

“Yeah no. That’s not happening.” Ratchet said with a snort. “Keep him tied up until I know more. I’ll get back to you.” 

He hung up and Rodimus let out a frustrated growl. 

“Any news?” Skids asked. He was sitting cross legged on the floor playing solitaire, seemingly unaffected by Drift’s antics. 

“Not so much. How’re the cables holding?” Rodimus eyed Drift nervously as he moved to join Skids. 

“So far so good. He’s not struggling as much now, I think he’s getting tired.” Skids observed, and lifted his optics to look at Drift. 

“I’m not tired. I’m mad.” Drift growled. He was panting, condensation beading on his trembling frame. 

“I don’t think mad is the word I’d use.” Skids said with a smirk and a shrug. 

“The word I heard used was rut.” Rodimus said with mild concern. 

“I beg your pardon?” Skids asked. 

“The frag does that mean?” Drift snarled. 

“It means that if we let you down you’re either going to eat Cyclonus or dominate him into next week I’m pretty sure. Show him and Ratchet who’s boss.” Rodimus said. 

Drift stared at him in something like horrified realization while Skids giggled himself silly on the floor. 

“I don’t want Cyclonus!” Drift shouted after a moment. “I hate Cyclonus!”

“You probably think you do right now but who even knows?” Rodimus leaned against the wall and folded his arms across his chest, a teasing smile on his face. 

“Let me down from here, I’ll wipe that smirk off your face! You don’t know what I want, you don’t know what you’re talking about!” Drift began to twist in his bonds with renewed vigour. 

“No can do. Doctor’s orders, you stay tied up till a solution is found.” Rodimus said. 

“Ratchet’s orders are absolute.” Skids said sagely. 

Before Drift could speak again, the door suddenly screeched open. As Rodimus turned, wide eyed, to see who it was, Skids got to his feet. 

“Hey!” Nautica chirped as she came in. “Thanks for leaving the door unlocked for me!”

“Uh, you’re welcome, that’s not really-” Rodimus began, taken aback. 

Nautica trotted over and grabbed Skids, lifted him easily and put him over her shoulder. “Okay bye! Have a good night!” She called as she headed out the way she came. 

“Bye? Hey Skids? You okay?” Rodimus called as he followed them to the door. 

“I’m sure it’s fine. Nothing I can’t handle.” Skids called back. 

“That’s the spirit!” Nautica said happily. 

“That’s not good.” Rodimus muttered to himself. 

A resounding crash from behind him, followed by a triumphant howl from Drift made him jump, and as he spun to face his friend, Rodimus felt his spark drop into his fuel tank. 

Drift was still tied up but the pipes had given out and he was no longer suspended. 

“That’s really not good!” Rodimus cried in alarm. 

…

First Aid felt incredibly lucky that a situation so full of opportunity had presented itself to him this way. There were a lot of boxes being ticked here. 

An attractive Wrecker inviting him to sit on his lap? Check.  
The opportunity to take samples while doing so? Check.   
The perfect excuse to reenact a scene he may or may not have written in a self indulgent Wrecker themed fanfic? Check check check. 

Doing his best to emulate Rodimus Prime, First Aid tilted his helm to the side and sashayed his way across the room. Blaster’s expression brightened, as well as his optics, and he offered First Aid a very charming smile in response. 

“Were you waiting long?” First Aid asked as he maneuvered himself into Blaster’s offered lap, perched on one of those strong looking legs. There was just enough of a size difference between them to make this reminiscent of something he’d seen in a vid before. 

“My whole life. But that’s okay, baby, I don’t blame you.” Blaster said with a hint of a purr in his voice. 

Even with the mystery fungus in his system manipulating his actions, Blaster sounded self conscious. First Aid had been incredibly surprised the first time he met Blaster and found a completely different mech than the one he’d heard described in the past. This Blaster was a far cry from a bot that oozed confidence and self assurance, whose every word sounded like a come on. 

“While your patience is admirable, you didn’t have to wait.” First Aid said. 

“Oh?” Blaster curled an arm around First Aid’s hips and leaned into him, one brow raised. 

“If you wanted my attention, you already had it. All you had to do was ask.” First Aid said in a playful tone. 

Surface scans he was taking as he spoke showed Blaster’s body temperature was elevated like he had a fever. His cooling fans were running on low, his biolights were a little too bright. 

Blaster laughed, and First Aid had to suppress a little shiver in response. That was a very sexy laugh, and their proximity made it reverberate through his frame. 

“Well damn, here I was thinkin’ _you_ were the shy one.” Blaster teased. 

“And here I was thinking that playing coy was a good way to garner attention from a mech like you.” First Aid replied easily. 

He cupped Blaster’s cheek in one servo and brushed his thumb across his full lip plates. Blaster obliged him with a brief but lingering flick of his glossa, which provided First Aid with his first sample. Perfect. 

“We don’t gotta dance round it anymore, mama. I got what you want and you got what I need.” Blaster murmured. 

_Do not, I repeat, do_ not _consume any part of the infected mechs._ Ratchet suddenly sent via First Aid’s private comm.

While he definitely hadn’t been planning on that, First Aid suspected Blaster might not have the same compunctions. 

_We have more info now?_ He asked his superior. 

“But… here? Now?” He asked aloud, letting his voice come out a little breathless. 

“Why not here? Why not now?” Blaster countered, and he ran a finger down the front of First Aid’s mask. “You got a pretty little mouth under here, don’t you? Why not put it to better use?” 

_Lotty says it’s some sort of plant based aphrodisiac they use on Caminus to inspire… well, that part should be obvious. It’s meant to be inhaled in small quantities, and it’s not supposed to be ingested. That increases its potency exponentially._ Ratchet explained. 

“We shouldn’t.” First Aid said softly. “We’re on duty, and there’s a lockdown. We should wait until it’s safe, until this is over.” 

It certainly wouldn’t feel right taking any more advantage of Blaster in this state. Samples were one thing, anything else would just be inappropriate. Everything he was saying to the mech was true, but he wanted the chance to say it to him when he was in his right mind. 

“Nothin’ else could possibly be more important than this moment though.” Blaster insisted. 

An alarm began going off behind Blaster on the security console, and First Aid was glad that his mask was able to hide how he had to bite his lip to stifle a giggle. Oh, the timing.

“What about that?” He asked Blaster. 

Blaster hesitated, then let out a slow and long suffering sigh before turning the chair to face the console. First Aid remained seated, and saw on one of the monitors that the alarm was a result of Tailgate breaking out of his locked room. 

_Hey Ratchet? You’ve got a bogey inbound._ He informed the CMO. 

_What?_ Ratchet asked in irritation. _It’s not Drift, is it?_

 _No, it’s not. It’s Tailgate. So… heads up I think._ First Aid said. 

“Huh. Little bot doesn’t know how to take no for an answer.” Blaster muttered as he observed the monitor. He paused and made a soft, thoughtful sound. “But I do.” He concluded as he looked at First Aid with a sheepish expression.

“It’s not a no.” First Aid said hurriedly. “For you, it would never be a no. It’s just a ‘maybe not now.’”

Brightening once again, Blaster nodded. “Not gonna lie, it’s gonna be real hard to wait.” He said with a little more of that signature purr of his. 

“I definitely agree with that sentiment. I came here to do a job, though. Let’s get through this crisis first.” First Aid suggested. 

“I waited this long. What’s another few hours?” Blaster leaned back in his chair as he spoke and let himself admire First Aid’s frame. 

“Hopefully my company makes it more bearable.” First Aid said fondly. 

_I’m going to go out on a limb and say that the amount ingested definitely makes a difference. Blaster is certainly exhibiting a lot of self control._ He told Ratchet. 

_Cyclonus was the same way at first, but right before I sedated him, I’m gonna posit he was losing that self control in a big way. Just be careful. And professional. Please._ Ratchet replied. 

First Aid might have had a _thing_ for Wreckers, but he wasn’t going to jeopardize his job for any bot. 

_Of course, Ratchet. Nothing to worry about._ He said. 

…

“I told you. I am not going to make this easy for you.” Megatron said. 

Ravage didn’t verbally respond, and by the feral look in his optics, Megatron got the feeling he didn’t particularly care about what Megatron was or was not going to do.

There was no way this was happening in Rung’s quarters. There were few mechs Megatron respected to the same degree he did Rung, and it would be a shame to sully any sort of positive relationship he’d forged aboard this gods forsaken ship. 

As he backed up slowly, he reached out a servo for something, anything he could use to distract Ravage long enough to escape. It would be useless to go for the door, no doubt the lock would have reengaged at this point. At the size he had mass displaced himself to, Megatron was confident he could get into the vent above Rung’s desk, but only if he were given enough time to get the grate open first. 

His servo came into contact with something soft, and as he gathered the object, he realized it was a throw blanket. How very like Rung to have something like this on hand… 

Megatron tossed the blanket towards Ravage, who was caught off guard and subsequently shrouded by the thing. If the felinoid had been in his right mind, he never would have let something so ridiculous happen to him. 

As Ravage struggled with the blanket, furiously hissing and snarling, Megatron launched himself into motion. He leapt onto the desk and reached up to the grate, wrenched it free with one servo and immediately scrambled into the vent. 

He hadn’t gotten far before he heard the screech of Ravage’s claws as the mech made to follow him. It wasn’t much of a head start, but at least they weren’t in Rung’s room anymore. 

Using his mass displacement to shrink down as small as he could to give himself more room to move, Megatron crawled to a junction ahead and turned left. He felt Ravage’s heated breath on his leg and one scrambling paw’s failed attempt to find purchase in the seams of his ankle, and kicked out his other leg behind him in response. 

Ravage let out an angry yelp, then the feeble resistance disappeared and allowed Megatron to continue his retreat. After a few moments of crawling, Megatron glanced over his shoulder and saw nothing behind him. That wasn’t surprising, Ravage had likely reactivated his attention deflectors, but those didn’t disguise sound. All Megatron could hear was his own venting, his own palms and knees scraping against the interior of the vent. 

He paused to listen more carefully, his EMF stretched out in an attempt to locate the predator stalking him. His spark was hammering now, but not in fear. 

This was the most exciting thing that he’d had the pleasure of experiencing since coming aboard the _Lost Light._ Even better since he was sharing it with Ravage. 

Megatron crawled over another grate as carefully as he could, thankful that they had moved away from the trio they’d left in the hall outside Rung’s door. He heard a sound behind him and startled, but when he turned to look at what it was, he saw some sort of debris rolling out of sight and knew he’d fallen for a classic trick. 

Sure enough, when Megatron turned back to look forward again, Ravage was there waiting. The felinoid pounced with a howl, and Megatron was knocked flat onto his back after he raised his servos to protect himself. 

They crashed against the grate, which immediately gave way beneath them. The fall was dizzying, no doubt thanks to the degree to which he’d mass displaced himself, and Megatron let out a short cry of alarm before the hard landing knocked the air from his vents. 

Ravage lunged towards his throat, and Megatron got his arm up just in time. He jammed it into Ravage’s mouth, which gave him brief control of the struggle as the cat jerked his helm back to get free. Megatron planted one foot against Ravage’s abdomen, where the heat he registered made a fresh wave of lust and anticipation move through him, then kicked Ravage unceremoniously down the hall away from him. 

As Megatron got to his feet and turned to flee once more, Ravage had already rolled gracefully onto his own. Before Megatron had staggered more than two steps, not quite having regained his balance, Ravage pounced once again and this time drove his leader to his hands and knees. 

His jaws closed over the back of Megatron’s neck and he forced his face against the floor. Megatron let out a grunt but ceased his struggling. This was it. The chase was over. 

...

“Was that Ravage?” Swerve asked after a comically long silence. 

“It looked like Ravage to me.” Rung said in an almost disappointed tone.

“Damn.” Whirl muttered in appreciation. 

“May I ask what’s going on?” Rung asked politely. 

“Haven’t the foggiest. I’m just following Whirl’s lead.” Swerve said with a shrug. 

“Right. We’re wasting time here! Eyebrows, we’ll mourn your room later, we’ve got more stops to make!” Whirl turned his focus back to the task at hand. 

“Mourn my room? What does that mean, Whirl?” Rung asked in alarm. “My models are in there!” 

“I’m sure you’ll be able to put them back together, but there’s no rescuing them right now. Trust me, we’re gonna wanna be far away before they start cause no person with a functioning brain module wants to hear that.” Whirl insisted as he ushered the two bots he’d collected up the hallway. 

“Are you implying what I think you’re implying?” Swerve asked in astonished excitement. 

“Probably.” Whirl snickered. 

“Where exactly are we going?” Rung asked. “And are you alright? You seem a little out of sorts.” 

“I can say with confidence I haven’t felt this good in a long time. We’re going to find Tailgate.” Whirl replied without slowing down even a little. 

Swerve looked at Rung, then up at Whirl, his processor putting the pieces together slowly. “You’re collecting minibots.” He said. 

“I might be. Who’s to say?” Whirl waved his claws joyfully. 

“Do _you_ know what’s going on?” Rung asked Swerve. 

“No. Not at all. But this is better than being locked up in my room all alone, so I’m going with it.” Swerve couldn’t help grinning as he spoke. 

“I’m not entirely sure this is the time for an adventure. Isn’t there a lockdown in progress?” Rung looked between them, his voice raised a little in urgency. 

“No better time for adventure, in my opinion.” Whirl said as he turned the corner. 

As the other two bots with him followed, they were forced to stop short so they didn’t collide with him. Whirl was standing stock still and staring at the open door of Tailgate’s hab, a pensive air about him. 

“Hey, looks like Tailgate might have gotten that hall pass. He was worried about Cyclonus, said he was gonna try to head to the med bay to check on him.” Swerve said. 

“That’s super helpful. Thanks.” Whirl turned to Swerve with his optic squinted happily. He leaned down and butted his helm against Swerve’s in an affectionate manner before turning on his heel to head in the direction of the med bay himself. 

Rung and Swerve didn’t immediately follow, both of them fixed to the spot in differing states of bewilderment. Swerve stared after Whirl for a moment before he stammered and spluttered and flapped a servo in the bigger mech’s direction as if asking if Rung had seen that. 

Rung nodded slowly in response, then gently took Swerve’s servo and gave chase. Whatever was going on, Rung didn’t want to miss a moment of it. He wasn’t sure if this was progress, or deeper madness, or possibly even both. Whatever it was, Whirl seemed incredibly, genuinely happy and Rung could use a bit more of that in the world.


	4. Chapter 4

There was no time to waste. They could be discovered like this at any moment by any bot aboard the ship. Megatron vented inward deeply as Ravage literally breathed down the back of his neck. The climbing temperature of Ravage’s body made that heady perfume stronger, and Megatron’s frame responded by priming itself for what was to come. 

Ravage hadn’t uncased his spike, and his frame was rigid and trembling as he hunched over Megatron. There was a ripple in his EMF that spoke of hesitation or maybe even second guessing. 

They hadn’t come this far just to quit now. Megatron wasn’t going to let Ravage back down. 

He tilted his hips upward and let his panel open. Ravage’s vents hitched, and Megatron had no doubt the cat’s optics were wide, burning bright.

He opened his mouth to speak, to demand to know why Ravage was making him wait, but his words became a startled snarl when the felinoid very unceremoniously uncased his spike and buried himself within Megatron’s exposed valve. 

Whatever hesitation Ravage had previously was swallowed by urgency, and with a strangled and frantic sound of need, he began to thrust. 

Megatron groaned deeply, his optics rolled toward the ceiling and his valve rippled along the not inconsiderable length of Ravage’s spike. He could definitely appreciate a mech taking exactly what they wanted and needed, especially when it was well earned. He could only imagine his trusted and ever present colleague had not only wanted this for some time, but likely had needed it as well, and for longer than this moment. 

He tried to push his hips back but Ravage was obviously not in the mood to let someone else dictate how this was going to go. Those wicked fangs dug into Megatron’s neck hard enough to hurt, not to mention deeply enough to be almost frightening. 

Almost. 

His valve clenched in response, and Megatron let himself go limp. Ravage let out a furious growl, deeper and more dominant than Megatron had ever heard. He pawed at Megatron’s frame to better position him, then shifted to give himself more leverage. 

It felt like Ravage was trying to show him the very meaning of rut, and Megatron had no complaints. In fact, forming coherent thought was becoming increasingly difficult.

Ravage’s claws screeched briefly across the floor before finding purchase, and now he was able to thrust that much harder. Megatron could freely admit he’d never been fragged at this pace and force before and Primus, he had been missing out on so much. Ravage was pounding into him as if his very life depended on it, and Megatron wasn’t about to deny him the life preserving power of his incredibly hungry valve. 

Ravage released his hold on Megatron’s neck, leaned his helm back and let out another desperate noise. “No!” He snarled. “No no no, it’s not enough!”

“Don’t you dare stop now.” Megatron demanded in a raw, static filled voice. 

“I’m… Megatron, I-I can’t hold on! I need-” Ravage panted, then he let out a screech through clenched teeth and slammed his spike all the way to the back of Megatron’s valve and overloaded. 

Megatron punched the floor and bit back a shout as the rim of his valve was stretched to its limit at this mass displaced size. He had to smother another longer, deeper cry by biting down on his own arm when the pressure built within him as a result of the astronomical amount of transfluid Ravage unleashed. 

It was rare for a mech his size to be filled like this during interface. Pride often made it difficult for him to consider using mass displacement because a certain amount of trust was needed to do so. Megatron didn’t trust easily. 

It had been so long since he had been brought this close to overload by another mech that when it hit him, he nearly blacked out. Megatron bucked involuntarily, the knot within him tugged sharply and Ravage immediately grabbed hold of his neck again to keep him still. 

It was glorious. It was exquisite, the pressure and pain prolonging their shared overload, but Ravage was correct. It hadn’t been enough. Too much wind up for too little payoff. 

“How dare you?” Megatron rasped. 

Ravage let out a soft growl of defiance. His jaws tightened, and warmth trickled down the side of Megatron’s neck. 

“How _dare_ you?!” Megatron repeated more venomously, his valve eagerly rippling along Ravage’s spike. “I am not yet satisfied and you reach your completion?”

Ravage loosed his grip and dragged his glossa through the energon drawn forth by his fangs. “I dare because you might be a captain, but I won the fight.” He murmured close to Megatron’s audio receptor. 

“I am not just a captain. I am your lord.” Megatron retorted. 

“Right now?” Ravage nuzzled him and ex-vented a fragrant puff of air by way of a soft laugh. “You’re nothing more than my conquest. And make no mistake, I am not done claiming you.”

“Hmph. Promises, promises.” Megatron shivered in delight. Why hadn’t they done this before? Sooner? 

“My attention deflectors better have hidden us from the cameras, or else this will make for an awkward conversation with Ultra Magnus.” Ravage said before he licked Megatron again and gave a few slow, deliberate strokes of his hips. His knot had not quite loosened entirely, but the effect was still quite pleasurable. 

Megatron grunted and couldn’t help a brief squirm. “Perhaps it’s best we take this elsewhere then.” He suggested. “You seem more in your right mind now that you’ve emptied your reservoir into me.” 

“Like I said, I’m not done.” Ravage assured him. 

“Thank Primus for that.” Megatron said with a smirk. 

…

“Ratchet, I’ve lost contact with Nautica. I was going to pick her processor about this but she says she’s too busy. That sounds like a problem.” Velocity said. 

“Not mine though. Or yours.” Ratchet said, but not unkindly. 

He had run whatever tests he could, and with the information Velocity had given him, there was no cure for this. 

They would have to just wait for it to run its course. That came with its own problems of course. The perfume was meant to encourage Camiens to breed, and Ratchet worried the increased effects would also increase viability. 

He didn’t want to deal with that. Not here, on this ship, with these mechs. No fragging way. 

“Ratchet, that’s not true! I’ve never seen the redolence make people behave this way. We could have a… a… well, a baby boom on our hands!” Velocity exclaimed. 

“Don’t say it!” Ratchet snapped. 

“I’m not going to lie about it.” Velocity pouted. 

“So you curse me with the cruelest fate?” Ratchet muttered. 

“If it’s such a burden, why not go back to Cybertron?” Velocity suggested. 

“And let this sex plague spread? No! No no no no no. Not a chance.” Ratchet snorted. He cast a wary glance at Cyclonus, who was still sedated and slumped in the chair he’d been put in. 

Velocity couldn’t help giggling, which just annoyed Ratchet further. It wasn’t funny, it was terrifying. What if Drift got free and had a go at Rodimus? That child would be a nightmare! All that sass, that delusional arrogance, the disregard for personal safety! 

“Would it honestly be that bad, Ratchet? It’s not like everyone has been affected.” Velocity said, and Ratchet scoffed in response. 

“This ship is full of rejects, losers, traitors and madmen, of course it would be that bad. We have enough trouble managing the grown mechs, can you imagine the added difficulty of managing their sparklings?” Ratchet said. “I’m thinking we spread a gas. Sedate the whole ship and let this thing die out before the potential epidemic of demon spawn is unleashed.”

“It would probably work. Though it might just be that there are bots aboard who have already let the redolence have its way.” Velocity suggested. 

“Please don’t say that.” Ratchet rubbed his face with one servo restlessly. He needed to check in with Rodimus again. “Look, I gotta go. There are calls to make.”

“Okay. I’ll do that too, check around to see who’s still in their right mind.” Velocity replied. 

After ending the call, Ratchet lowered his servo. He immediately jumped when he found himself looking up at Cyclonus, who was far too damn quiet for a mech his size. 

“Aw slag, you’re awake.” Ratchet growled. 

“I am. So much more awake than I ever have been.” Cyclonus rumbled. 

“That’s just the fungus talking. Sit your aft back down, we don’t have time for this.” Ratchet put a servo on Cyclonus’ chest and attempted to push him back into the chair. 

Cyclonus caught Ratchet’s servo with his own, then lifted it to his mouth. He pressed a firm kiss to Ratchet’s palm, his burning optics locked with Ratchet’s. 

“We have nothing but time. Who are we to waste it?” Cyclonus asked. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Ratchet said, but he was flushed nonetheless. His servos were exceptionally sensitive and Cyclonus had a mouth that inspired a very specific brand of imaginings. 

“I am not known for my sense of humour.” Cyclonus informed him. 

“No. You’re not. And this is not at all funny. Cyclonus, this is not happening.” Ratchet huffed. There was no way, no matter how convincing Cyclonus tried to be, Ratchet was getting caught up in this madness. 

“Give me one good reason why.” Cyclonus said with a subtle narrowing of his optics. 

“I’ll give you five.” Ratchet scowled. “You’re drugged. You’re in a relationship whether you wanna admit it or not. You’re not my type. Kimia. I’m not in the mood.”

“I offer a rebuttal. I don’t care. I am not. I can change that. Megatron has done worse. And you’re lying, I can smell it on you.” Cyclonus said without hesitation. 

Ratchet wasn’t about to back down however. “If you try anything, I’m just going to sedate you again. And this time I’ll be sure to magnetize you to a slab so you can’t just get up again.” He said sharply. 

“Why are you trying to deny me? You haven’t the strength to resist. When is the last time you allowed yourself to-” Cyclonus began. 

“Tailgate is on his way here right now. Do you really want to end this night having to explain to him why you decided you preferred to frag me instead of fragging him?!” Ratchet shouted, and gave Cyclonus another shove to put some distance between them. 

Cyclonus hesitated, and Ratchet thanked whatever sorry, twisted deity was listening for that. 

“He’s coming here?” Cyclonus asked softly, and his optics widened. 

“That’s what First Aid told me, and he’s at security right now, he saw it on the cameras.” Ratchet said with a nod. 

“I see. That’s just splendid.” Cyclonus smiled a slow, predatory smile, and Ratchet felt a current move through him at the sight of it. 

“How do you figure?” Ratchet asked in a wary tone. 

“No doubt Tailgate is coming to join us. He and I share the same tastes. He sees in you the same thing I do.” Cyclonus claimed, and stepped just a little closer. 

“I find that incredibly hard to believe, thank you very much.” Ratchet growled. That was utter nonsense. Complete slag. 

And now he was backed into a damn corner again. Ratchet hissed a curse beneath his breath and stepped to the side in an attempt to get around Cyclonus, who was thankfully still a bit sluggish thanks to his previous sedation and failed to catch hold of him. 

“That’s because you don’t see yourself as anything but a tool, an instrument, Ratchet. You put so much stake into your form and function that you won’t let yourself admit you are beautiful.” Cyclonus said as he turned to pursue Ratchet across the lab. 

“You’re thinking with your spike right now, Cyclonus. The answer is still no.” Ratchet said with more of an edge to his voice than he expected. 

“I will respect a no, but only if it’s spoken with conviction. Tell me again. Look me in the optics and tell me you don’t desire me.” Cyclonus rumbled. 

That wasn’t going to happen. Ratchet knew for a fact that close proximity and prolonged exposure to the redolence was giving his body ideas. It wouldn’t be lying if he denied his attraction to Cyclonus but it wouldn’t be the most truthful of truths either. 

“I don’t trust you enough to get near you. Stay over there and I’ll tell you what you want to hear.” Ratchet told Cyclonus. 

Luckily, Cyclonus listened. He stood still and held his arms to the side, palms up and talons loosely curled. He smiled again and fixed Ratchet with a heated stare. 

Ratchet took in a slow breath and lifted his chin. “I said the answer is no. But maybe I was wrong.” He admitted. 

“Go on.” Cyclonus murmured. 

“The answer is actually never.” Ratchet concluded. 

Cyclonus let the smile drop from his face. He lowered his arms and frowned in confusion. With a shake of his helm and a single step forward, he spoke. 

“Why would you subject yourself to that? Why would you deny yourself the chance for well deserved pleasure, Ratchet? My spark breaks for you.” He said, but he didn’t move further. 

“Better your spark than your face, Cyclonus.” Ratchet said with a soft sigh. “Are we clear?” 

“We are.” Cyclonus said sadly. He looked around, then moved to sit down in the chair he’d previously been occupying. 

“What now, then?” Ratchet asked, still wary of the mech. 

“Now I wait for Tailgate. He will set me right.” Cyclonus said, and folded his arms across his chest. 

“Right. Go on and sulk. You’re not going to change my mind.” Ratchet muttered and let out a short sigh. 

What a disaster. Ratchet had no idea how long this thing was going to take to wear off, or even if it would do so on its own. All he could do now was wait.


	5. Chapter 5

As he and Cyclonus sat waiting for Tailgate to arrive, Ratchet chose to read up a bit on exactly what the Camien redolence was meant to do. It was surprisingly easy to find information, but Ratchet was still disappointed in what he found. 

His field rippled with agitation and he ex-vented slowly through his nose, which drew the attention of Cyclonus once more. 

“What is it?” Cyclonus asked, arms still folded and brow still knit. 

“Nothing.” Ratchet snapped, perhaps a little too quickly. 

“Again, you lie to me.” Cyclonus said grumpily. 

“It’s a need to know thing. And you don’t need to.” Ratchet retorted with ease. There was no way he was about divulge what he’d read to the other bot. Or to anyone else for that matter. They’d either eventually find out themselves, or they’d be none the wiser and he’d be all the better for it. 

Cyclonus fell into near subvocal muttering and tapped his pede impatiently on the floor, but he didn’t pry. 

The room was getting stuffy, but the lockdown made it impossible for either of them to go anywhere. 

Unbeknownst to Ratchet, the lockdown wasn’t going to be a problem for much longer. 

In the security room, Blaster could barely keep his attention on the monitors. First Aid had decided to remain seated as he did his own research, and Blaster’s frame was reacting predictably to a lap full of pretty, petite, pacifistic and strong sparked young medic. 

Blaster wasn’t about to go against First Aid’s wishes, but there was a nearly instinctual need welling up within him he was having a hard time ignoring. 

There were interesting things happening in the halls despite the lockdown, and it didn’t surprise Blaster in the slightest that both the captains were involved. First, Megatron was spotted rushing down the hall as if he were being chased by something. Before long, the former Decepticon warlord encountered Whirl and Swerve outside Rung’s private quarters, then was tackled into the room by what Blaster assumed was Ravage. 

Soon after this, Rodimus and Drift burst out of Rodimus’ hab and engaged in what could only be described as a slap fight in the hall. Blaster couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped him, and First Aid looked up from his datapad with his helm tilted slightly to the side in curiosity in response to it. 

After Blaster gestured to the monitor, he and First Aid sat watching the antics of the two bots for a moment in amusement. Then Drift slammed Rodimus against the wall and Blaster let out a low whistle. 

“Somethin’ tells me our illustrious captain wouldn’t be too happy bein’ watched in this kinda position.” He murmured. 

“Oh, I’m not so sure about that.” First Aid said with a soft laugh. 

“Y’know, you might be right. He seems the type, doesn’t he?” Blaster grinned. 

“Some mechs just have a vibe.” First Aid’s tone was teasing and his field was playful. 

“Well, if he wants an audience, who are we to deny him?” Blaster asked. He reached out and punched in a code, then flicked a switch, and the lockdown alarm stopped. 

“What did you just do?” First Aid asked in shock, optics wide behind his visor.

“Baby, I gotta do _somethin’_ in order to keep my attention occupied and my servos to myself.” Blaster said with a smirk. “There’s so many people in the halls anyway, what’s the point of keepin’ the doors locked?” 

“Oh Blaster. That’s rather naughty.” First Aid murmured, his tone more one of awe than admonishment. 

“Sure is, but you don’t mind, do you mama?” Blaster said. 

First Aid spluttered quietly, put his servos on his cheeks and looked away. He looked rather shyly back at Blaster and let out a giggle. 

“Is it that obvious?” First Aid asked. 

“Some mechs just have a vibe.” Blaster let his engine purr as he spoke. 

...

It seemed sort of redundant to drag the door closed again, but it was the last, rather pitiful line of defense. Rodimus was hopefully optimistic that while Drift was now on the floor instead of suspended in the air, he was still tied up and that made him less of a danger to either himself or everyone around him. 

That optimism fled weeping when Drift raised his bound wrists to his mouth and began gnawing almost effortlessly through the cables with those fangs of his. 

“Oh come _on,_ can’t I catch a break today?” Rodimus asked whomever might be listening. 

He backed towards the door and contemplated what in the world he should do. If he ran away, that would leave the rest of the ship at Drift’s mercy. If he stayed, well… he would be the only one in that position. 

Now that his hands were free, Drift wasted no time at all. He got to his pedes and made straight for the door with a feral expression on his face. Rodimus pressed himself against the door a little harder, though he figured he was less of an obstacle and more of a momentary inconvenience to Drift. They’d sparred enough for Rodimus to know how strong Drift was, after all. 

“Please don’t go out there. I don’t want to be responsible for carnage. And you know that Megatron will definitely hold me responsible because everything is always my fault in his optics.” Rodimus pleaded weakly. 

“Move.” Drift demanded in response. 

“Not gonna happen. Not willingly.” Rodimus drew himself up a little straighter, but there wasn’t much conviction in his words or his stance. 

“So be it.” Drift growled, then he lunged towards Rodimus in a threatening manner. 

Reacting the only way he could think of in the moment, Rodimus threw a punch, but Drift’s uncanny battle foresight made it easy for him to catch the flying fist in one servo with ease. Drift dragged Rodimus toward him and used his free servo to wrench the broken door open once more. 

Rodimus tried to scramble backwards, but lost his balance as there was no longer a surface to brace himself against. He would have taken Drift with him if not for the fact that his best friend let go of him and let him fall to the floor in an awkward heap. 

As Drift stepped over him, Rodimus reached out and grabbed hold of his ankle. 

“No! Stop! Where are you going?!” Rodimus cried. 

“I’m going to save Ratchet!” Drift snarled loudly. He attempted to shake Rodimus off, but it was awkward as he seemed to also try to avoid kicking him. 

“Like I told Megatron, Ratchet doesn’t _need_ to be saved! He can handle himself.” Rodimus clung more tightly, then slithered forward to wrap his other arm around Drift’s calf to further anchor him. 

“Stop being so ridiculous.” Drift hissed. He reached down and roughly seized one of Rodimus’ winglets, wrenching it hard enough to elicit a sound of pain. “Let go!” 

“No!” Rodimus was hurt, and not just physically. Drift might not have been in his right mind, but that didn’t mean he was allowed to play dirty like that. 

“Let go of me, or I will make you let go.” Drift threatened, his grip only growing more firm. 

“I dare you to do that. I imagine there aren’t a lot of people on this ship that would be surprised.” Rodimus retorted. 

Drift immediately released him with a brief expression of shock, and Rodimus used the distraction to try and knock his legs out from under him. He was unsuccessful, and Drift retaliated by putting a servo on Rodimus’ face and shoving his head back. 

Rodimus shifted his grip from Drift’s leg to his arm, and this gave him the leverage needed to tug his friend off balance. Drift didn’t fall, and as he tried to pull his arm free, Rodimus was able to get to his feet again. 

Their grappling was becoming increasingly awkward, with Rodimus doing his best to keep Drift from hurting him again while Drift was growing increasingly desperate to escape. The struggle was brief, Drift eventually getting the upper hand and driving Rodimus backwards against the bulkhead. 

“I’m not going to let you run off.” Rodimus gasped out with a cringe. 

“You’re not going to be able to stop me.” Drift said confidently. 

“You came to me tonight because you trusted me to be able to do just that. I’m not going to let you down by giving up, even if it’s a fight I can’t win.” Rodimus said, and he flashed a quick, careless smile at Drift. 

This made Drift pause again, but Rodimus didn’t move to renew their struggle. He watched his best friend’s face as Drift processed what he’d said, watched as the emotion there flickered from surprise to realization to something he didn’t quite have a word for. 

Then Drift leaned into him a little more, his brows slowly furrowing. “I do trust you.” Drift said. 

“And I trust you, I trust that you know what’s going on with you better than I do at any given moment. You asked me to stop you, so I’m gonna try hard to do just that. Whatever it is you need me to do, I’ll do it.” Rodimus said. 

“I know you will.” Drift said, a feeling akin to relief stealing into his EMF. He regarded Rodimus in contemplation for a long moment before leaning in until their mouths nearly touched. 

Rodimus remained fixed to the spot, his spark now hammering behind his chest plates. At least Drift wasn’t acting as unhinged as when he’d been raging about Cyclonus, but there was still a chance Rodimus was opening a can of messy, violent worms he wasn’t ready for. 

“I trust you.” Drift said, then drew in a slow, quiet breath. 

“I trust you too.” Rodimus murmured in reply. His optics flicked from Drift’s optics to his mouth and then back again, and his vents hitched. 

“I don’t know what’s going on inside me. I feel like all my nerves are exposed. I feel like… I feel like I’m not myself, or like I don’t even know who I was in the first place.” Drift whispered, and Rodimus could feel each spoken syllable against his lips. “I’m scared of what’s inside me, Rodimus.” 

“I’m not gonna let anything happen to you, Drift. You’re gonna be fine, I won’t let anything hurt you. And I won’t let you hurt anyone either.” Rodimus said. He reached up and took Drift’s upper arm in a firm grip. “Let’s just go back inside my hab. We’ll wait this out, okay?” 

“Okay.” Drift nodded ever so slightly. 

Of course, before either one of them could move, the flashing emergency lights shut off and the lockdown alarm went silent. Rodimus heard the doors along the hall unlock.

Drift froze in place, his optics widened, and Rodimus internally cursed. 

“That’s not good.” Drift stated the obvious. 

“Nope. Not at all.” Rodimus agreed. 

…

Whirl could move much faster than Swerve’s short legs could carry him, but it seemed like he was trying not to get too far ahead of the two smaller bots following him. He also kept checking over his shoulder to make sure he hadn’t lost them. 

Swerve kept a tight grip on Rung’s servo as they chased Whirl through the halls. There was an urgency to their movement, but also a determination. Swerve had no idea what Whirl intended to do with the minibots once he was done rounding them up, but he didn’t feel threatened at all.

He was also blushing furiously still as a result of Whirl’s open and unexpected display of affection earlier. That was not the sort of thing Whirl did. Ever. 

“Should we be worried?” Swerve asked Rung quietly. 

“That remains to be determined.” Rung replied, and he gave Swerve’s servo a gentle squeeze of reassurance. “If it helps ease your processor, I genuinely don’t believe he means to harm us, or anyone else for that matter. Not right now.” 

“That helps yeah.” Swerve said with a nod. 

“YO! LEGS! HEEEEEY!” Whirl suddenly shouted, which elicited a squeak of surprise from Swerve. 

“Huh?” Tailgate’s voice replied. “Oh hey! What are you doing out here?” 

Whirl trundled up to Tailgate with a jovial wiggle of his wings. “Looking for you! C’mon, we’re going on an adventure!” He informed the minibot. 

“Uh, that sounds great but I gotta go get Cyclonus.” Tailgate said and jerked a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the med bay.

“Yeah, we can make a stop so you can check on him, but then you gotta come with us.” Whirl insisted. 

“I do?” Tailgate put a servo on his hip and looked up at Whirl inquisitively. “Why is that?” 

“Cause… adventure. You wanna have an adventure, right?” Whirl asked with equal parts hopefulness and uncertainty. 

“I do like adventures.” Tailgate mused. 

“We’re on the adventure too!” Swerve chirped. He released Rung’s servo and made his way over to Tailgate. “I have no idea what we’re doing, but it was more fun than being stuck in my hab, so… yeah.” 

“I get it. I really do. But Cyclonus went to the med bay and I’m worried about him, so I’m not going anywhere but to the med bay to check on him.” Tailgate insisted, and as Swerve approached, he ex-vented sweet, perfumed air. 

“Look. I know, you and Cyclonus share a room and all. But honestly? You don’t need to bother. Whatever’s up with him, Ratchet will sort him out.” Whirl said with a bit of impatience. 

“That’s what I’m worried about!” Tailgate declared, and now both hands were on his hips and he glared up at Whirl. 

“How come?” Whirl asked incredulously. 

Swerve let out a grunt of discomfort and fell back to join Rung once more. Rung put his servo on Swerve’s arm in reassurance, his field rippled with worry. 

“Because… well because I don’t think it ought to be Ratchet ‘sorting him out.’ I don’t think that’s what Cyclonus really wants. I’ll take care of him.” Tailgate said, his small engine letting out a mighty rev. 

“This isn’t good.” Swerve hissed to Rung. 

“I agree. It seems that they’re both under the influence of the same substance, but it’s affecting them differently.” Rung whispered back. 

“Oh, oh I see. That’s how it is.” Whirl said in annoyance. 

“Of course that’s how it is. How else would it be?” Tailgate said as he turned to continue on his way to the med bay. 

Whirl watched him go, his engine growling and his rotors rattling, but it wasn’t anger coloring his field as it began to fill the hall around them. Disappointment, rejection, determination in equal parts wafted from him as strongly as that perfume did. 

“Oh dear.” Rung muttered. 

“Y’know what? Maybe _I’ll_ go sort ol’ Cyclonus out myself.” Whirl stated. “C’mon, let’s go to the medbay.” 

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Swerve asked uncertainly. 

“Nope! But one way or another, I’m gonna convince Legs to come along for the ride.” Whirl said confidently, then he was off like a shot down a side hall.


End file.
